Urine, Ethan Allen and Jesus: PART 1

This post has been one I have avoided writing, for so many different reasons but mostly because it is about me confronting things that are uncomfortable.

This past Sunday, it was so hot in Raleigh (like everywhere else), it broke a record of 60 years. The heat index was 108 degrees. If that doesn't deserve the phrase "Hot as hell" I'm not sure what circumstance does (my wedding day a close second).

That is the day Danny and I met Lisa. She is a 45 year-old woman who grew up in Spain, but has been in the US for many years. At this point, she was traveling through Raleigh. By "traveling" I mean, she was walking, or rather stumbling in the heat carrying a white plastic bag. She is probably all of 90 pounds.

As our car approached to pass her, I exclaimed, "Is that person crazy walking in this heat?!"
Then I realized she was probably not walking out of choice. And it wasn't the heat that broke my heart as I watched her, it was the fact that she was wearing sweat pants that were entirely too big for her and they were obviously soiled from urine. "We have to give her a ride."

So Danny pulled off close by and walked over to offer her a ride. As she approached the car, I could tell she walked with difficulty because of a disability. I wondered how my husband felt about her soiled-ness on his leather truck seats. But I quickly brushed that thought aside.

We asked her where she was headed, it became apparent she didn't really have a destination and was homeless. She had only been in Raleigh for 10 days. She said a ride to the next town that would be fine. The next town is Garner which at this point was 4 minutes away and there was not much there to assist her.

I will not go into all the details of the conversations and our decision making, but everything happened quickly and Danny and I seemed to be tag teaming in the process. The task of removing her from the heat and getting her water lead to her preferring coffee instead and before we knew it we were buying her coffee, water and a burger from Wendy's.

And because we knew the Mission was not open on Sunday, we did not know what to do with her because it was so hot. Under our breath we discussed options and decided to put her up in the Days Inn for a night. This would at least keep her out of the heat until Monday when we knew we could connect with the Mission.

So there we were in the Days Inn parking lot. Lisa and I in the car while Danny was getting a room. Not once did she ask for anything. She simply accepted what was offered gratefully. She was so little and so vulnerable. She was articulate. She thought I was 28. It was hard not to find her charming.

Danny returned to the car and said the room wouldn't be ready for an hour. So now what? "Well, why don't you come over to our house for lunch and then we can bring you back?" So in keeping with the Wendy's menu, we grabbed ourselves some burgers at McDonald's and headed back to our house. This was all happening so fast. I was not really thinking things through.

I felt like I was in the twilight zone. It was bizarre. There was part of me that was in hyper focus problem solving mode and thrilled to be in this situation with my husband, and there was a part of me that wondered if I was helping her for her or to make myself feel good.

As we drove up to my house, my mind raced with thoughts of "Where will we eat? How do I casually lead us to eat anywhere but at my expensive Ethan Allen dining room?"

And there it was. There was the ugly struggle. I had no problem buying her a meal or paying for a hotel room, but the deep seated (no pun intended) truth was I was not prepared to serve her with my custom fabric dining room chairs.

I could hear the Holy Spirit loud and clear, "Who do you serve? Your chair or me?"

"Who is your Master? Your precious chair or Me?"

I have a friend who has a heart for widows and orphans. I can honestly say I have a heart for the homeless in the Raleigh community. That Danny and I both do.

I never thought it would involve the struggle of deciding what human being "deserved" to sit at my dining room.

"Let me show you the love of Jesus, but please go change your pants and sit on the floor over there."

I have always been "at odds" with the book of James. Its a painful book for me personally to read. And I could hear the verses in the book rebuke me:

¹My brothers, as believers in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ, don't show favoritism. ²Suppose a man comes into your meeting wearing a gold ring and fine clothes, and a poor man in shabby clothes also comes in. ³If you show special attention to the man wearing fine clothes and say, "Here's a good seat for you," but say to the poor man, "You stand there" or "Sit on the floor by my feet," ⁴have you not discriminated among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts? (James 2:1-4)

I knew that if I did anything other then surrender my dining room to God at this moment, I would be useless in His kingdom. And I am ashamed to say, it was not something I did easily.

And there she was. Lisa the filthy homeless lady in my house. Before I knew it, she was sitting at my table in an end seat --- Danny's place. And it was okay.

Because in my uncleanness and in all my soiled stains of my heart, Christ still invited to me to His table of salvation and offered me the meal of eternal life.

We shared a meal together. We talked and got to know each other and I was desperate for her to sense we were a married couple who wanted to give her Christ.

Before she left, I gave her a small suitcase with wheels, packed her some toiletries, snacks, water bottles, gave her my cool cowboy-ish hat and sunglasses and a pair of capri's I thought might not swallow her. And I felt it was all useless. She was lost. Not because of her homelessness, but because of the choices she made in her life and that she did not have the hope of Christ.

You can have no home or you can have a lovely home with beautiful custom made fabric chairs from Ethan Allen, but if you don't have Christ you're both in the same boat.

I was filled with such feelings of an inability to help her. I was filled with such grief that people "live" life this way. I was filled with such grief that I could value my dining room over giving another human being the blessing of hospitality.